


Slytherin Tendencies

by emansil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Blow Jobs, Cross-Generation Relationship, Hand Jobs, Incest, Intergluteal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-03-30 21:08:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3951823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emansil/pseuds/emansil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A family camping trip goes all wrong when James and Harry are the only ones to go.  Or does it maybe go exactly as one of them had planned all along?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slytherin Tendencies

**Author's Note:**

> This one is for gracerene. A long, very long time ago she left this prompt. I claimed it, but had to drop out of that fest. Then she prompted it again in a totally different fest. I claimed it again, but had to drop out once more, though I had completed more than half of it. The amazing torino10154 wrote a wonderful fic, [In the Shadows of the Mind](http://hp-crossgenfest.livejournal.com/11207.html) based on this same prompt. Mine is in no way is meant to overshadow or lessen hers in any way. I just figured I’d gone so far with it, I should at least finish it. Ultimate thanks and gratitude go to winnet for her amazing beta work. Thank you for all you do! Sl

“Sorry. Sorry,” Harry mumbled as tumbled out of the Floo. “We finally caught a break in the Braddock case. There was a last minute meeting to work out the final details. Give me just a moment to change and I’ll be right with you.” He tore off his Auror robe and, hopping around on first one foot, then the other, he attempted to remove his boots. It was only by some unknown saving grace that he didn’t end up flat on his bum.

As it was, midway through the removal of the first boot Harry finally slowed down enough to take in a more exhaustive search of the entry way. James stood at the ready. But he was the only one.

“Where’s the rest of the family?” Harry asked. “I thought we were going camping?” 

James shrugged and grinned back at him. “ _We_ are,” he said. “The rest of them aren’t.” 

“What? Why not? What happened from this morning ‘til now?”

“Well, Al got an offer from Scorpius to go to Ukraine to see the new Quidditch Pitch Mr Malfoy just completed. Which, sorry to say, took precedence over family time. Of course, anything that has the two Malfoy’s involved, is likely to take first place in any decision Al has to make.”

Harry frowned as he tugged off his other boot. Last he had heard, Albus and Scorpius had had a falling out. What it was about was unclear, but he suspected Scorpius may have wanted more from the relationship than Albus did. In addition, there was the fact that Al may have had a bit of junior partner type crush on the Scorpius’s dad, forever going on about his business skills and acumen. For now, Harry just let it be, figured it would play out on its own.

“Okay, but what about Lils?” This was supposed to be a time for Harry to re-bond with his kids. Since his divorce, he hardly ever saw them. Always so busy with their friends and making future plans, they seldom had time to spend with their father. This weekend camping trip had been planned in hopes that he and his children could reconnect. 

“Mum called. She had a surprise offer of free tickets to some hot fashion show in Milan. Surely, you don’t think camping in the wilds of Scotland could top that.” James snatched up Harry’s Auror boots and sent them sailing to the hall closet. Next he Accio’d his father’s hiking boots from the mudroom where Harry had tossed them after their last expedition. As he handed them to his dad they each got a whiff of the results of hiking boots being put away without a proper airing. James wrinkled his nose and cast an air-freshening spell before handing them over, but said nothing. 

“No, I don’t guess it would,” Harry answered, tugging on the boots. Only to instantly remove them to put on the more appropriate hiking socks. “So, it’ll be just you and me. Sure you still want to go? Think it’ll be okay just having your old dad to hike with?” Harry tried to keep his voice light and unconcerned. Torn between wanting the weekend with his eldest son, and nervous of them being alone for two whole days and _nights_ , Harry wasn’t sure what he wanted the answer to be. 

James turned slightly pink, and stared down and to the side for a second or so. Harry watched, curious as to what his son was thinking. When James raised his head he was grinning brightly. “I think it’ll be brilliant, just the two of us. Give us one last trip before I head off to Uni in Iceland.” He picked up the backpack that leaned against the wall and placed it on his back, adjusting the straps as he did.

One last look around, making sure everything was turned on, or off, properly, and he’d not forgotten anything, Harry shrugged on his own pack. “Blimey, I’d forgotten how heavy these things could be. You know,” he began casually, already knowing the answer before he said it, “we could make it easier, by using magic.” For some long forgotten reason, one of the rules of Potter family camping and hiking expeditions was they had to go completely Muggle-style, except in the case of an extreme emergency, and the getting to and fro. But once there, it was a magic free zone.

James shook his head. “We always go without magic. I see no reason to change that, just because there’s only the two of us. As a matter-of-fact, when I realised that we’d be alone, I took the liberty of packing the pup tent. It made the pack a lot lighter.” 

“What?” Harry scowled. If he remembered correctly, the pup tent was ridiculously small, barely large enough for two children, nevermind two fully grown men. He wasn’t even sure if the two of them would fit. “Are you sure that’s wise? Remember, with no magic with which to enlarge it, it’s going to be really crowded.”

“It’ll be fine. We’ll just have to budge up together. Besides if the weather holds, we can sleep out under the stars, in our sleeping bags. No tent needed.” He adjusted the pack on his back, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and stuck it on the side of his pack. “Are you ready?”

Harry shrugged making adjustments to his own pack in the process. “We’re good. Let’s go.” He took hold of Jamie’s hand and Apparated them to Invermoriston. A last minute change in plans, it was one of James’s favourite areas to hike.

~&~

Harry and James were trekking carefully along the edge of a Scottish burn that tumbled down a ravine. Harry was in the lead, continually calling out to James any potential pitfalls of the terrain. The next thing he knew, there was surprised yelp, some snapping and cracking of branches and underbrush breaking, and then a loud splash.

He immediately whirled around and jumped into the tumbling waters, soaking his jeans. His frantic searching found Jamie instantly. Harry gave a great tug and pulled his son to him. Harry ran his hands over every inch of his son’s body, needing to verify he was unharmed. 

“Dad, I’m okay. Just wet and really embarrassed. I can’t believe I tripped over that little broken branch.”

“What branch? I never saw any branch,” Harry said, mortified that he somehow had missed something so potentially dangerous. He led James to a break along the bank where they could climb out without further incidence. 

The moment they were on dry and solid ground, Harry pulled out his wand prepared to cast drying and warming spells on James. 

“No Dad! No magic. You promised.”

Harry hadn’t. Not really. He’d only agreed to limit the use of magic to cases of emergency. Harry felt strongly this constituted an emergency. “But James you’re soaking wet. If we don’t get you dry, you’ll catch cold. You’ll be miserable, and I’ll be miserable when I bring you home from this camping trip with a cold. Your mum can be quite vicious when it comes to one of you getting sick.”

James did his best to grin at him. A rather difficult task, what with all the shivering and chattering of teeth, that was taking place. “Let’s find a place to set up camp. You can light a fire and I can curl up with a blanket in front of it. I’ll warm up in no time.” 

Scowling, Harry looked around the area; he thought he remembered a clearing nearby that would be safe enough for a fire. The sun was already in the downward slide in the west as well. It wouldn’t be long before twilight, an acceptable time to stop for the day. He picked up the two packs. Luckily, Harry’s pack with the majority of the bedding and towels had managed to miss the dunking in the burn. Jamie’s had not been so fortunate. 

Shivering, they both trudged off through the trees. About fifty yards in, they found a clearing. Twigs and branches of varying sizes were scattered somewhat loosely around. They’d be easy enough to gather for the fire. And there was a relatively large flat space free of too much debris for them to pitch the tent. 

Once Harry had the fire burning brightly, feeding it more and more of the kindling they’d found, he turned to James. “Okay, off with them, everything off.” Still shivering from the chill of the wet jeans that clung to his legs, Harry said, “Let’s get you something warm and dry to wrap up in.” Once he got Jamie settled he’d have to see to himself. 

Harry squatted down to open the backpack, his gaze drawn to his son as he did. Jamie’s back was turned towards Harry, bent over peeling the heavy wet denim of his jeans away from his long legs. Against his will, Harry felt a stirring of desire. Immediately he pushed it down, renaming it. 

No, not desire, but love, fatherly love. His son was beautiful. In every way: looks, personality, charm. Finally, after many years of being the one expected to folly in the footsteps of the twins, Jamie had recently settled into more of a Charlie. He loved to laugh and joke, but could just as easily sit quietly offering a shoulder to cry on should it be needed, or an understanding ear if one needed to rant. From this angle, Harry was shocked to realise that James was the spitting image of Ron at that age, long and lanky. The same slope of the shoulders, the same curve of the arse after the long sweep of the back, the same long leanly muscled thighs. 

He’d spent many long hours watching Ron. Watching and wanting during those many days of the Horcrux hunt, never able to speak of his desires. Another road down which he did not need to wander at this time, Harry shook the memories of the past back to where they belonged. 

“Here you go.” He handed James a towel, nice and thick. “Now dry off completely and then wrap this around you. He pulled a duvet, stuffed full of down, from the pack that was equipped with Hermione’s bottomless spell. Jamie would not have approved of the use of the spell, but had little to say on the subject now. 

Once James was warm and dry, wrapped up like a burrito in front of the fire, Harry was able to strip down himself. The hairs on the back of his neck tingled. Harry turned his head. James’s gaze, hot and intense, focused on him. Harry shook his head; sure he had imagined the look. Quickly he turned away, flushed from the heat suffusing his face and neck, and the answering interest in his cock. 

Their meager dinner of tinned soup and crisps finished, they sat before a blazing fire an hour later. The late setting sun of the early autumn cast a glow of deep orange over the campsite. He really did enjoy camping. He and his kids should do this more often, at least he and the boys. Soon they’d both be out of Hogwarts and on to lives of their own. James would be starting his in just a few months, Albus in another year. 

Lost in his reverie, thoughts and visions captured by the fire, the sound of teeth chattering caught him by surprise. Harry’s attention immediately focused on his son. Shivering and shaking with cold, James held the duvet wrapped close around him, his teeth clenched to keep them from chattering. Only it wasn’t working. James ducked his head down into the depths of the duvet attempting to ward off the chill. 

“Jamie!” he cried. In less time than it took to say his name, Harry was beside him, holding his son against him. Jamie’s skin was ice-cold. “Fuck, you’ve caught a chill. I knew I should have cast a warming spell. We should have gone home.” Harry tended to chatter like a broken windup doll when one of his kids was in danger. 

“I’m alright. I’m just really cold. Do you think… could we…I mean do you think it’d be…?” Jamie stopped not finishing any of his sentences.

“Anything. Whatever you want Jamie. Just ask.” 

“Could we just go ahead and go to bed. Maybe if I’m in the tent, in the sleeping bag…with you next to me. I could get warm. Remember how you always told us that if we ever get into a situation where it’s dangerously cold, to lie next to each other, skin against skin.” The last words were said in a rush, Jamie’s voice low and a bit high pitched. “Remember?” 

Harry said nothing. _Merlin save him._ Could he do this? Could he lie all night long next to his son, his beautiful Jamie in a tent barely big enough for two small boys? And still resist temptation. Then Jamie sneezed several times in succession, and there was no decision to make. He’d do whatever was needed, to keep his child safe and warm until morning. 

Harry stood and hurriedly made the adjustments to their campsite. He moved the tent closer to the fire, the entrance into the tent angled in such a way to allow more heat in, but not as much of the wind. He opened the sleeping bags and zipped them together into one. James’s clothing all drying by the fire, Harry pulled an extra pair of pyjama bottoms he’d brought along and handed them to Jamie, ordering him to put them on. At the look of annoyance on his son’s face at how short they were on him, Harry snorted in laughter. To add insult to injury, Harry then took their last dry towel vigorously rubbing Jamie all over, stimulating the nerves and warming the blood. Only when the skin glowed fiery red, did Harry finally stop. 

As Harry turned to gather more wood needing to build the fire up before they turned in, he heard James say softly, “Thanks Da, that already helped a lot.” It had been years since Jamie had called him Da, ever since Lily had made fun of him about it, saying he was Dad, not some rural bumpkin Da. It had taken Harry a long time to forgive his Lily Luna for that. “Anytime Jamie, that’s what Dads, _and_ Das are for."

~&~

Rest eluded Harry that night. He and James both clothed in pyjama bottoms. The fabric thin and extra loose on Jamie, Harry’s, perhaps, a bit more fitting, though no less thin. Naked from the waist up, Jamie curled up next to Harry absorbing the warmth of skin against skin. Harry sweated through the night reminding himself it was all for Jamie.

The second problem Harry found was keeping his groin from coming into direct contact with Jamie’s arse. A battle he was destined to lose. Every time he moved away, Jamie followed. Until the wall of the tent stopped Harry’s retreat, and there was nowhere else for him to go. Resigned, Harry lay still and silent. Eventually Jamie’s soft snores and little noises he’d made since he was a child soothed Harry to sleep and he stopped worrying about anything. 

Sometime later Harry woke, momentarily confused as to where he was. He'd flipped over in the night and something now pressed against his groin, slowly moving against it, the up and down motion sending off sparks of desire. _Bloody hell!_ Remembering where he was and what, or whose, it was, Harry groaned. _Not good._ He listened stealthily, determining James’s actual state of awareness. The familiar sounds of his son’s sleeping greeted Harry’s ears and he relaxed. 

But only momentarily, James’s body was awake and searching for contact. Harry’s cock stirred with interest, begging for a touch from anything besides his own right hand. From nowhere a thought, an idea, unbidden came to him. Jamie was sound asleep. He’d never have to know. Harry’s cock heartily approved of the idea, adding to the wet spot that dampened the front of Harry’s bottoms. 

Tentatively Harry touched the tips of his fingers to James hip bones; their sharpness bringing more memories to Harry’s mind. Of the one time he’d been allowed to touch Ron in this way. They were poignant, but they were just memories of a time long since forgotten. Barely breathing Harry waited for a reaction. None. Emboldened, Harry placed more pressure on the jutting angles beneath his hand. Slowly Harry inched forward, his cock searching for the cleft in Jamie’s arse. 

Harry trembled with suppressed emotion. Never, not even to himself, had he admitted how long he’d wanted this. It was wrong, so very wrong. A betrayal of every son’s trust in their father, this was a universal wrong. He couldn’t, he shouldn’t. He wouldn’t do this. But oh how he wanted. He lifted his hand, removing it from the sharp, jutting bones of Jamie’s hips. 

Molly Weasley, catching one of her boys in the cake before it was properly cooled, could not have moved any faster than the hand which grabbed Harry’s wrist. 

“Don’t stop.” Jamie's voice grew in strength and confidence with each word. “Please Da, don’t pull away from me.” Jamie tugged Harry’s hand forward and placed it against his very hard cock. The fabric under Harry’s hand was hot and sticky, the hard turgid flesh of his son’s prick heating the palm of his hand. Instinctively he cupped his palm and rubbed the heel of his hand against the hardness. Jamie thrust forward and whimpered wanting more. In that moment Harry sold his soul to the devil, sliding his hand into the open placket of the bottoms and curled his fingers around his son’s prick. 

_Fuck, but Jamie’s dick felt good in his hand._ Over the years of sharing a house, a bath, camping trips and Quidditch showers Harry had been aware that his son’s cock was aesthetically pleasing. That was nothing compared to how fucking amazing it felt in his hand, the weight, the shape, the velvety softness. 

Still too much space between them, Harry scooted even closer. His hand on Jamie’s cock restraining him from too much movement, Harry slid his still clothed erection into the gap between the two cheeks. The two of them pressed against each other, chest to back, cock to arse, knees bent in repeating angles. Harry rubbing his cock in that enclosed space while Jamie continued to thrust his cock into Harry’s fist. 

Harry closed his eyes, instinctively moving with the feelings, both physical and emotional, that threatened to overtake him. 

“Wait,” James whispered hoarsely. 

Harry stilled. Shame and doubt washed over him, fearful he’d only imagined Jamie wanting this. 

Before Harry could think about reacting, James had lifted his lower body up and yanked his pyjama bottoms down to his knees. Jamie’s cock now free, he wasted no time in grasping Harry’s hand and placing it back firmly on his cock. Next, twisting his arm to reach behind him, James tugged the waist of Harry’s loose pyjama bottoms down as far as he could, until the ground beneath them halted him, his intent clear. Harry moaned softly and did as instructed. 

With a long and anguished groan Harry jerked Jamie back against him, his cock sliding into place once more, returning to the early slow and gentle movement between them. Harry pulled, and James bucked into his hand. Harry pushed down, his own cock thrusting against Jamie’s arse. Jamie pressed back, spreading his legs making it even easier for Harry to slid into and fuck against that tight space. Again, Harry pulled on Jamie’s cock, Jamie bucked into his hand, Harry pushing down his own cock thrusting into that tight space, repeating the movements of their _pas de deux._. 

James grunted, thrusting into the fist that pumped his cock. “Oh gods, Da. Yes, that’s it. Fuck, don’t stop. Wanted this so long, wanted _you_ so long.” Harry sped up his motions, his feelings increasing in their intensity in response to the words that tumbled ceaselessly from his Jamie’s mouth. 

James’s rhythm faltered; he stilled suddenly, coating Harry’s hand and fingers with the proof of the pleasure Harry had given him. 

Abruptly James rolled over and pushed Harry onto his back. Harry’s mouth filled with the sweet taste of James’s tongue, the kiss deep and heady, slow and passionate. Jamie’s mouth covered Harry’s lips and his tongue exploring the inner terrain of Harry’s mouth. 

The slow sensuous slide of his son’s body down his own had Harry gasping and thrusting up, searching for new friction. His hand slippery with Jamie’s come gripped at the material of the sleeping bag beneath him. 

Jamie’s breath, warm and caressing, blew against Harry’s cock. An empty space of time passed and Harry could barely breathe, waiting for Jamie to do whatever he was going to do. It seemed a lifetime passed before Jamie moaned low in his throat, then wet wicked warmth enveloped Harry’s cock. Harry spread his legs, and scrunched backwards, giving Jamie more space to move in. Then Jamie’s tongue was lapping around the head, the same way he had always enjoyed his ice-cream cone. Slowly extracting every drop of enjoyment and flavour he could from it. Harry thrust up into the wet heat of Jamie’s mouth moving down his shaft, his tongue, brilliant tongue, dancing all along the way. Then back up sucking deeply as his tongue pressed against Harry’s pulsing vein.

Harry bucked again, wanting more. But Jamie’s hands held him down, held him firm. Jamie took full control of what happened, his tongue and lips continuing to do blessedly delightful things to Harry’s prick. But it was the soft mewling and other sounds of Jamie’s own enjoyment that drove Harry towards the edge. 

_Fuck!_ , but it was amazing. Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about the fact that obviously this was not the first cock his son had ever had in his mouth. Insanely jealous that someone had had this before him, or grateful that he wasn’t completely corrupting his son, either way it was entirely too brilliant for him to care about at the moment. 

With a whimper, Harry exploded into his son’s mouth. The intensity of what he was feeling too deep, too earth-shattering to waste with a shout. Jamie swallowed convulsively around him, licking Harry clean until it became too much. 

Harry drew James up to him and kissed him, explored his son’s mouth, the taste of his own come still heavy on Jamie’s tongue. Heavenly.

“I love you Da,” Jamie whispered against his mouth. “Thank you.”

Tears prickled behind Harry’s eyes. His son had just given him the greatest gift ever and Jamie was the one thanking him. “I love you too my Jamie; I should be the one thanking you,” Harry answered softly, kissing James on the forehead and pulling him in close against him. 

Soon soft snores of deep contentment echoed around the small tent, Harry allowed them to lull him to sleep, refusing to think on what they had just done. Instead, he let himself experience the full measure of the joy he felt.

~&~

When he woke the next morning, the sun was barely up, but James was gone from the sleeping bag. Harry rolled over and returned to sleep, thinking he’d just gone to the bushes to relieve himself.

When he woke the second time, the sun was fully up and James was still missing. Torn between the rising panic that Jamie could be lying somewhere wounded, or in danger. And the remorse and humiliation that Jamie had woken this morning disgusted with what had happened, wanting only to be as far away from Harry as possible. Maybe he’d even gone so far as to Apparate away from Harry. Slowly Harry began to pull on his clothes, when concern for his son’s safety overcame his self-absorption. Still half-dressed Harry tore from the tent. 

Just in time to see Jamie come strolling up from the east, two large fish hanging on a stringer attached to his belt loop, his smile as bright as the sun behind him. “Hi Dad.” A pang of remorse that he was once again Dad tore through Harry, stilling him from moving closer. “You’re up. I’ve been fishing, caught us some good ones. Do you want to fry them up, or should I?”

James moved in closer, catching Harry’s wrist in his hand. Jamie leaned in, his breath a mixture of morning breath and the tea he must have taken with him, and kissed him. 

Relief swept through Harry. He wrapped his arm around James back, holding him close, fish and all. 

“Everything’s okay Da. I wanted this to happen, planned it even. I made sure that Scorpius invited Albus to go along with them, promising him something that I’m not sure Albus is ready to give him. I knew about the fashion show and suggested to Mum that she should take Lily Luna. I wanted it to be just the two of us.”

Harry could only stare in stupefaction at his son. It seemed it wasn’t only his middle child that could have made it in Slytherin house. 

“You didn’t take advantage of me, more like I took advantage of you. I’m not sorry that it happened. And while I won’t try to force you to do it again, neither will I push you away if you want it to happen again. ” Jamie’s gaze held Harry’s, strong and steady. He then grinned brightly at him. “Take a look at these trout I caught. Aren’t they beauties? Let’s get cooking; we’ve still got a lot of hiking to do before we can stop for the night." 

An hour later as they removed all traces of their stay Harry realised not once had James sneezed or coughed or blown his nose, or even sniffled. Harry chuckled softly to himself, understanding at last, just how deep the Slytherin tendency for manipulation ran in his eldest son. “I knew there wasn’t any loose stick on that trail,” Harry muttered. Before he turned and led them back to the trail, his cock already swelling in anticipation of their stop that evening.

End.

**Author's Note:**

> Please show your appreciation for the author here, or on [LIVEJOURNAL](http://hp-crossgenfest.livejournal.com/17547.html)! ♥


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